No Regrets
by Sky-Pirate-Tat
Summary: One shot; Luke confesses his feelings to Layton but it's not what he hoped for.


**A/N**: Found this on my flashdrive and realized I never uploaded it. It's three years old. . . I guess see it as an aged wine I just took out of the cellar.

Luke didn't have a secret, not anymore. His lips were pressed against his mentor's, his body shaking to be closer, praying that Layton's arms would encircle and push him against his chest. Instead the professor held him firmly by the shoulders and gracefully moved him away.

"Kissing your fellow man on the cheek is a more acceptable form of greeting," he responded, dodging the subject.

"Right, professor," Luke said dully. "I got carried away seeing you again, so I..."

"I understand you're in the prime of your youth, but if you're to be a gentleman, you must use restraint."

Restraint. That was something Luke lacked. He had tried- half-heartedly. He claimed he couldn't help it, that there was a burning inside him when confronted with conflict (and now, with lust). When he realized that his affection wasn't just the simple platonic feeling between student and teacher he began to want what he imagined. His imagination as he masturbated wasn't enough to satiate his thirst. He wanted to feel the professor, he wanted to make him feel good too. He wanted to love him.

There was a moment when Luke wished he was a girl. That would make things right. The professor wouldn't have to worry about his reputation, or be uncomfortable when Luke rubbed his thumb when they exchanged touch.

The only flaw was that women were housekeepers- not apprentices. And Luke rather liked his body. No matter what anyone said about men lying together, Luke felt the only way he could love the professor was to be a man also: himself.

"Professor."

The man didn't look up, determined to solve the puzzle they were working on. Luke paused, taking in the depth of the man's expression as he worked. He knew as soon as he asked the question at the tip of his tongue, the expression would disappear.

"Why is it wrong for two men to- be intimate? Is the Bible the only reason why?"

"Luke." The professor looked up now, worried. "There is that, but there are other reasons."

"Tell me," Luke demanded.

"For one, two men cannot create a child-"

"That's rubbish. This is love. Doesn't love mean anything to people?" he stammered, wanting a rise from the professor, or to win this argument. Maybe if he won, the professor would accept his feelings. "Doesn't love mean anything to you?"

The professor was stiff-lipped. Luke's heart sank. "You think I'm disgusting, don't you?"

"Not at all," Layton said stiffly.

Luke had looked up to this man for his calm demeanor, but suddenly he hated him for it. Luke felt like one of those problems the professor was always calculating. There wasn't a shed of emotion other than concern in the man's face.

"Luke, I never said it was right, or that it was wrong, and I have never considered you disgusting in even the least sense. You have to understand there are some things that society isn't ready for yet."

"I don't care what everyone thinks, Professor. I just want you. That's all I ever needed. How can you talk to me so coldly...? Don't talk to me about what others think. I want to know what you think: do you feel the same as I do?"

Layton turned away- a mistake. He turned back to Luke and found that the boy was absent from the room. He heard him slam the door behind him. Layton jumped out of his seat, ignoring his hat and coat and forgetting to lock the door on the way out. He just ran desperately. The one time he showed emotion on the matter Luke wasn't there to see him.

"Luke! Luke!" his voice echoed in the empty streets. His call alerted a man on night patrol. Layton didn't feel a shred of relief reporting the missing. He hated to stand there and talk to the officer when he could have been catching up with Luke. Still, his logic told him that it was wiser to have a number of people looking, rather than just himself. He wandered the whole night, drenched by the mists of morning, and delirious, but not tired- he was too afraid to sleep. He wasn't afraid of Luke coming across a friend during the night; what he worried most was Luke being alone. People did crazy things when they were isolated.

He sat in the lobby of the police station; finally he had been dragged in there by a well-meaning policeman. He stared at the amber liquid in his hand. It looked like the tea that had been on his desk last night, but this, he noted as he took a sip, was poorly prepared.

Hershel wondered- no, really, knew- what he could have said otherwise. He had thought he was being considerate of Luke, but thinking over the details again, he decided that he was a coward. What Luke asked of him wasn't impossible. As Luke suspected of him it was mutual.

_I promise that when I find you, I won't resist,_ he decided.

X

"Excuse me. Excuse me, Mr. Layton."

The man he had come across on night patrol shook him out of his doze. Layton didn't even feel like he slept at all.

"Did you find him?" he asked immediately.

The man's nodded, lips taut. "Yeah, we did."

"Is he here?"

"I- it would be best if you didn't see him, sir."

Hershel considered the worst and denied it. "Why not?"

"We haven't finished our investigation, but from the looks of it, he committed suicide."

The top-hatted man's mouth hung open and he shook uncontrollably. He had failed not only to love, but also to be there for Luke. He had always protected him from disaster. Protecting Luke from himself- well, it had crossed his mind a few times during the night- but the man was insistent on having faith in his apprentice.

He found out later how he had done it: one shot to the head. No turning back. No regrets.

The professor had plenty of his own.


End file.
